


Quoth the Raven

by ArielAquarial



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Animal Lover Castiel (Supernatural), College | University Students Castiel/Dean Winchester, Confused Dean Winchester, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Pining Castiel (Supernatural), Pining Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 10:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielAquarial/pseuds/ArielAquarial
Summary: Dean Winchester didn’t believe in the occult. Werewolves were a myth, Nessie was a hallucination, and bigfoot was just a large hairy man who enjoyed strolling naked through the woods. He thought that crystals were a load of shit, and a smudge stick would do nothing but make your house smell like burnt sage. He didn’t believe in God, let alone ghosts. Finally, and he was 100% sure on this one, he didn’t believe in witches. Or Wicca. Or whatever they wanted to call it. His point? Everything could be explained. That is, everything but the dark-haired man walking through campus with a spellbook and a raven for a familiar…





	Quoth the Raven

**Author's Note:**

> It only took me a month to post something! Yay! I have the next part of the Fo3 series just about done, so expect that in a day or two!
> 
> Special thanks to Rocksaltandhoney for being such a good beta, and another thanks to my friend Kenny for pointing out some mistakes!

Castiel's mother had always warned him against touching baby birds. His scent, she told him, would stick to the bird and the mother would abandon it. He avoided birds like the plague after that. When a bird built its nest in the tree next to his bedroom window, Castiel refused to even open it a crack despite the spring breeze he’d be missing out on. What if the mother bird could smell him from his room? He refused to have a dead baby bird on his conscience.

When he’d turned 14, he’d finally found out the truth. Birds have a horrible sense of smell. There was no way that just touching a bird would leave enough of his scent on it to affect the mother. He knew his mom had just told him that so he wouldn’t go around poking in nests. He didn’t begrudge his mother for her lie, though. He _had_ been a curious child.

His researching birds led him to discover ornithology. Castiel couldn’t think of a better life than exploring the rainforests and studying the migration patterns of tropical birds. His mom, on the other hand, preferred something more practical for him, so he pushed his dreams to the side eventually decided to study history. To his mom, a history degree was just as useless, so they eventually agreed on theology. It was perfect. Part history, and just enough Jesus to keep his mom happy. Despite the new direction his studies were going, he never lost his love of birds.

He never thought the information he learned as a teen would be useful, though. How often was a person close enough to a bird for knowledge of the anatomy of a wing to come into play? Well, the answer was pretty damn often when you owned a cat. Lucy was a very affectionate cat and had always left him presents. Birds were the most common, followed by mice, bugs, and once a small garden snake. He always praised her for her prowess and disposed of the gift discreetly. He understood a cat's nature and knew that the gifts meant the cat considered him ‘pack’ and was trying to take care of him.

Usually, those presents were already _dead_.

The only thing that alerted him to the presence of the bird was the loud, frantic caws. Immediately knowing what must have happened, he began a quick search of his small apartment. Within a few moments, he was able to track the sound to his laundry nook. With a groan, he realized that Lucy must have wedged herself and the poor bird behind the dryer in an effort to keep her catch a secret until she could finish the job.

Thinking quickly, he went into the kitchen and grabbed a can of wet food. As soon as he popped the tab and pulled off the lid, Lucy was in the kitchen and weaving between his legs, sans bird. He sighed in relief and scooped the contents into her bowl. Once he was satisfied she would stay to finish her meal, he made his way back to the laundry area.

The crow was large, and breathing quickly through what had to be terrible pain. Its wing was held away from his body, and while he didn’t think it was broken, it was certainly injured. He tutted and grabbed a clean hand towel from the stack on top of the dryer and carefully reached behind the machine. As gently as possible, he gripped the bird around both wings and held it as it resumed its angry squawking. He flinched, worrying that his cat would be back any minute to finish the job, but Lucy never came. He sent a prayer of gratitude to the heavens for having such a food-focused cat.

With his free hand, he took the laundry basket and dumped its contents onto the floor before putting the wrapped bird into the basket. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast. Knowing not to touch the crow with his bare hands, he knew the first order of business was to get himself some gloves and locate a shoebox.

The gloves were easy since he had an unopened pair of thick dishwashing gloves under his sink. The shoebox, on the other hand, was an issue. Spending a few moments frantically searching his garage for a small box, he suddenly remembered that he had a photo box under his bed. He emptied the contents onto his comforter and brought the box back to the dryer. After lining it carefully with another hand towel, he placed the bird carefully inside. The poor animal was definitely not happy with its treatment, but he hoped that its continued struggling was a good thing.

With a silent apology to the bird, he put the lid onto the box and brought it into the only room Lucy wasn’t allowed: his bedroom. Placing the box on his dresser, he closed the door and opened his laptop and searched for the nearest Veterinarian.

The call was a bust. He expected to be told they would take the bird from him, but that hadn’t been the case. There was no way they could house a wild bird, the vet tech had told him. When asked what he should do with it, since he was in no way prepared to care for a bird, he was told to call the local bird rescue. The first rescue he called didn’t have the room and recommended another rescue that was 2 hours away, the second one was out of funding and couldn’t take on another bird, no matter how sad the circumstances, the third rescue recommended calling the first. He hung up and groaned.

He glanced at the box and swallowed heavily. “Well, it looks like it’s just you and me.”

Back on his computer, he started doing a bit of research on crows. It only took him a few moments, and one more peek at the injured bird, for him to realize that it _wasn’t _a crow at all. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was a raven. From what he knew about ravens, there wasn’t a major difference between the two when it came to looks, but a raven would grow to be larger and was much more intelligent than a crow. So intelligent, in fact, that it ranked alongside dolphins and chimpanzees. He stared at the box in amazement and vowed to take care of the bird as best he could.

Castiel pushed himself to his feet and wandered into the kitchen to get a few dishes he could use for food and water. Lucy stared at him from the floor, her green eyes blinking owlishly up at him. Her feigned innocence caused him to scoff in annoyance.

“I’m glad you spared the bird,” he began. “But, I can’t say I’m prepared to nurse an animal to health. You’ve put me in quite the predicament.”

She began licking her paw.

“I’m going to have to purchase our new friend’s food at the pet store, now.” He continued. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

She stood and sauntered away, her tail flicking behind her.

In the week that followed, Cas provided the bird with dead mice, bugs, water, and a warm box to act as its nest. Every day, he cleaned the box of droppings, replaced its food and water, and brought the box to his back porch. He’d take off the lid, unwrap the bird, and watch as it did nothing but sit and give him an unimpressed look. After a few minutes of waiting, he softly apologized to the bird and re-wrapped it with the towel before bringing it back to his bedroom.

This continued for two weeks until finally the bird lifted its wings and took off. He watched it fly into his trees with joy and a hint of sadness. He’d grown quite attached to the bird and although he knew it would eventually leave him, he was still sad to see it go. He closed the box sadly and returned to his kitchen, wondering what he was going to do with the leftover worms now that the bird was gone. Fishing, perhaps? He shrugged and tossed the container into his refrigerator and decided it was a problem for another day.

The next morning, while Castiel waited for his coffee to finish its percolation, he heard a great and familiar croak. Startled out of his pre-caffeine haze, he jumped and looked up to see a black raven perched outside of his kitchen window, staring at him with its dark eyes. He didn’t bother hiding his smile at the sight. Hastily, he rushed to his refrigerator and grabbed the styrofoam container of worms, thankful that he hadn’t tossed them into the garbage the previous night. Hoping that the bird was still there, he sprinted out of the house and stopped short at the sight of the bird waiting for him.

They stared at each other for a moment, unsure and a little wary, but with one great flap of its wings, the raven took flight and landed on Cas’s forearm. He jolted in shock, and hastily offered the worms to the bird. It stared at him once more and began eating.

“I’ll call you Lenore, I think.” He told the raven. It didn’t understand him, of course, and continued eating.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Dean Winchester didn’t believe in the occult. Werewolves were a myth, Nessie was a hallucination, and bigfoot was just a large hairy man who enjoyed strolling naked through the woods. He thought that crystals were a load of shit, and a smudge stick would do nothing but make your house smell like burnt rosemary. He didn’t believe in God, let alone ghosts. Finally, and he was 100% sure on this one, he didn’t believe in witches. Or Wicca. Or whatever they wanted to call it. His point? Everything could be explained.

You couldn’t just recite some chant and manifest something. There wasn’t a potion that could provide you with true love, nor was there a crystal you could shove into your pocket that would give you luck. He would never begrudge someone their beliefs, but that didn’t mean he had to take it seriously.

There was a Wicca club on campus that had put up a table during the club rush. Surprisingly, there had been a large number of people surrounding it, but whether that was from an interest in the club, or the doughnuts they were offering, he couldn’t guess. Hell, even he’d consider braving the crazies for a nice old fashioned doughnut. He shook his head at the crowd and went straight for the campus bookstore instead.

Once he had his scantrons in hand, he began his walk to the bus stop. There would be no clubs for him this year. He had enough on his hands without the obligation of weekly meetings and club dues. He didn’t need that extra sash around his neck for graduation. He was getting an engineering degree, for fuck's sake. They hardly cared where you went to college, let alone what clubs you joined.

The bus stop was crowded as usual, and the bench was already full, so he resigned himself to stand for the ten minutes it would take for his bus to come. He pulled out his phone, opened sudoku, and hoped no one would bother him. It was the pounding of feet on the concrete that finally drew his attention a few minutes later.

He glanced up and caught the eyes of a man sprinting for the stop. Dean peered down the street, expecting to see the bus approaching (Why else would anyone be running?), but it wasn’t in sight. The man finally drew up to the overhang and stopped close to Dean, taking the last of the space in the shade. He bent over and propped his hands onto his knees, out of breath.

Dean huffed in amusement and went back to his phone, barely even hearing the sound of cars passing, distant honking, the buzz of students talking, a bird cawing…

The sound of wings beating was so out of place it jarred him out of his game. He looked up just in time to see a giant black crow flying straight to him. He nearly dropped his phone in his haste to protect his head and duck, but the sharp sting of talons never came. Peeking under his arm, he was met with the strangest sight he’d ever seen. The raven’s target hadn’t been Dean…it had been the stranger next to him. The dark-haired man stood there, the bird perched on his shoulder, and uncaring that he was now the center of attention.

“Get off my shoulder.” He told it. “You’ll tear a hole in my shirt.”

Dean glanced around and no, he wasn’t the only one seeing this. The other bus goers were staring at the guy in the same shock and most had shuffled away from the dark-haired man. Dean realized he was pinned between the man and the bus stop, unable to move without the possibility of drawing the bird's attention. One glance at the beak on that monster and he was frozen in place. He wasn’t about to get bitten by that thing. It was fucking huge. Bigger than the man's head with a beak to match. His first impression was that it was a large crow, but no…he’d never seen a crow that big. It had to be a raven.

“You’re not going to listen to me, are you?” he asked it and then reached up to stroke its head. “Fine, but if you ruin one more shirt I’ll stop giving you treats.”

The raven croaked in agitation.

“I mean it.” He warned in his deep voice. Despite the man’s threats, Dean watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a peanut, shell, and everything. The raven fluffed its feathers and plucked the peanut from his fingers, using one taloned foot to grasp it while its beak tore the treat to shreds. Once its treat was gobbled up and shell fragments littered the guy’s shoulder, it started preening the man’s hair.

Dean watched it all in silent shock. He had never seen anything like it. He gave the man a more thorough once over. Dark wash jeans, practical brown boots, a black t-shirt, and sunglasses perched atop his head. A completely normal dude who just so happened to have a pet raven. A familiar, maybe? Dean shook his head. No, that shit didn’t exist.

The waiting group was interrupted by the squeal of brakes, signaling the approaching bus.

As if that was the raven's cue, it cawed loudly and shuffled from foot to foot.

“Meet me at home?” he asked it.

The raven croaked in response and took off with one great beat of its wings.

Dean Winchester was 90% sure witches weren’t real, but that was still pretty weird.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

The next time he saw the man was in the campus library.

The first floor held a majority of the computers and tended to be more crowded so he bypassed it completely in favor of the second floor. He’d been heading towards the study tables when he spotted him. Dean paused mid-step and made an embarrassing sound. He wasn’t intimidated by the man, definitely not, he just didn’t want whatever hoodoo was surrounding the man to rub off on him. Not that he believed in hoodoo.

He glanced around the library and despite the late hour, it was pretty full. The only open table was right next to birdman and only separated by two feet. With a resigned sign, he bit the bullet and took the seat. He steadfastly ignored the man for ten minutes until his curiosity won over. As inconspicuously as possible, Dean twisted his chest towards the man, faking a stretch. Holding the position, he eyed the man and his belongings. Same messy hair, jeans, a plain t-shirt, backpack on the table, and book open in front of him. Disappointed, he ended the stretch and twisted to the other side to even things out.

He didn’t know if he should be annoyed or not. Everything appeared to be completely normal. It was just a guy, who happened to have a pet raven and was currently studying a large book. A rather thick one, if Dean recalled properly. Actually, the book had looked odd. A quick glance proved his suspicion. The pages were worn, some torn and sticking out at odd angles. It wasn’t a textbook, Dean realized, but something else completely. He bent down and reached into his backpack so he could get a better look at the book he was so absorbed in.

Brown cover, probably leather-bound if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, and old yellowed pages. If he didn’t know any better — and he did — he’d say it was some kind of spellbook. There were lines and paragraphs, and the page he was looking at had some kind of list that could be some kind of recipe. Everything looked suspiciously witchy. He was too far to get a good look at the words written in cramped ink, but if he didn’t know any better, the page he was currently looking at was not in English. A mishmash of letters that he had no chance of deciphering.

The man flipped the page and Dean forced himself to sit up straight and concentrate on his book. He didn’t want to believe that the man was looking at some kind of grimoire, but there were few other things it could be. Dean shook his head and was able to study for five minutes before his thoughts drifted back to the man. He was probably just a weirdo with an odd pet. Why else would he be looking at a spellbook in the campus library?

Yeah. Just a weirdo.

Dean Winchester was 75% sure witches weren’t real, but that book sure was suspicious.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Dean wasn’t a stalker. It wasn’t his fault that he kept running into weird bird dude. It _was_ a small campus, after all.

Birdman was currently situated under a large tree, enjoying the shade. Dean took the bench opposite of him, far enough away to be inconspicuous, but close enough to watch the strange man without being obvious. He was handsome, Dean observed, maybe even handsome enough to ignore the fact that he was pretty weird. It was the blue eyes, Dean thought to himself. Bright, clear aqua even from a distance. The hair helped matters too. Dark, and incredibly soft looking. Birdman looked athletic enough, and the snug way his pants fit over his thighs showed a dedication to cardio.

Birdman was reading a paperback novel, something serious looking with dark text on the cover. He looked completely absorbed with the book and paid Dean and the others no attention. It was refreshing, actually, to see a grown man reading a book for pleasure. He hadn’t seen that since Sammy came to visit from Stanford over the summer break.

He was startled out of his staring by a loud croak. Immediately, Birdman perked up and located the sound just as the raven swooped into view. It landed a few feet from the tree and hopped its way towards its owner. Birdman reached out his hand, but instead of hopping on, the raven placed an object in his palm.

Birdman smiled softly at the raven and held the object up for inspection. From a distance, even Dean could clearly see that Birdman was holding some kind of rock to the sun. A crystal, perhaps? As if in return for the gift, Birdman reached into his pocket and pulled out another peanut.

Transaction over, the bird tackled the deshelling of his treat. Birdman stroked its head, scratched under its beak, and murmured quiet words to it. It was fucking fascinating. Once he was done showing the bird his appreciation, Birdman went back to examining the crystal, moving it in his hands and smoothing it with his fingers. He slipped it into his breast pocket and watched the raven with a content smile on his face.

Dean Winchester was 40% sure witches weren’t real. But if they were, they’d probably collect crystals just like Birdman.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

After that, Dean saw the guy everywhere. If Dean wanted a snack and wandered into the campus’s sandwich shop, Birdman was there too. He saw him in the coffee shop, the bookstore, the quad, and most embarrassingly, washing his hands in the bathroom when Dean walked in. Everywhere Dean went, he seemed to run into the guy. Despite seeing him a few times a week, Birdman never seemed to show any hint of recognition. Not that he wanted to draw the guy’s attention, he was possibly a witch, after all. He was attractive, that was it. Dean had dated weird people before, and it worked out well enough. Tessa had been way too obsessed with death, and he’d still dated her for a year. He’d give it a shot for a guy like that. What could be considered witchy behavior was all in his head.

Right after Dean’s Tuesday class, he marched over to the quad with a goal in mind. Get Birdman to agree to a coffee date. It was simple. He’d go up to the guy and introduce himself before engaging in small talk. If the guy seemed receptive, he’d ask him out on a date. Easy.

Birdman’s favorite spot seemed to be a specific tree in the back corner of the quad. With a skip in his step, he approached the quad, and just as he thought, Birdman was sitting under his tree and absorbed in a textbook. He slowed his pace as he neared and stuffed his hands in his pocket. He could do this, Dean told himself. It was just a guy with a pet. Dean glanced around for the raven but didn’t see the thing anywhere. Good. He didn’t want to get pecked if things didn’t go well. Who knew if the thing doubled as an attack bird.

As he got closer, he noticed two things. First, the book on his lap looked like the same one he had been reading at the library a few weeks ago. Second, he was speaking quietly. While Dean didn’t see a Bluetooth headset, that didn’t mean he wasn’t using one. He stood off to the side, close enough to hear him so that he’d know exactly when he could interrupt.

It took him a moment to realize what he was hearing, but once he did, his blood ran cold. Birdman was chanting in another language. Rhythmic and strange, his words made no sense to Dean. The combination of the strange chanting and the spellbook open on his lap was too much for Dean to handle. Dean noped the fuck out of there. There was no way he was going to get caught up in some curse shit.

Dean was 100% sure Birdman was a witch, and he was freaking out.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Despite his wish to stay as far away from Birdman as he could, Dean continued to run into him. Worst of all, it seemed that Birdman was starting to recognize him — which was just his luck. One time, Dean was stuck two people behind Birdman in the line for the campus sandwich shop, and they made eye contact. Birdman smiled at him, small and slightly shy, and Dean’s heart rate picked up. A week ago, Dean might have worked up the courage to talk with the guy. Now? His skin clammed up and he just wanted to get his sandwich and leave as soon as possible. To not draw the man’s ire, Dean smiled back and gave a friendly nod, but once his sandwich was in hand, he got the hell out of there and ate his lunch two buildings over just in case.

The next time he saw the man was walking through the hall in one of the math buildings. Once again, Birdman smiled at him, and once again, Dean smiled back and nodded politely. Not wanting to get any closer to the guy, he ducked into the bathroom and locked himself inside a stall.

They ran into each other in the library, in the parking lot, and in the bookstore. Dean tried to change his routine, and even park in a different lot so his walking path would change, but nothing stopped Dean from bumping into him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Birdman was tracking him. More than once, Dean caught himself watching the sky for the raven. It wouldn’t surprise him if the raven was reporting his location back to its witch. Or is it a warlock? Whatever.

It all came to a head on Tuesday morning. An unexpected bout of rain arrived, and Dean, in little more than jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, was wholly unprepared for such weather. His car was on the far side of the lot, and the rain was coming down just hard enough that he’d be soaked by the time he got to it safely. He couldn’t use his backpack as a makeshift umbrella due to his laptop being nestled inside, nor could he grab one of the campus newspapers and use it to cover his head because the rack was empty.

Settling himself for the cold rain, he took a deep breath, shoved through the door, and broke into a run. The next thing he knew, he was on his ass, water seeping into his underwear and the breath knocked out of him.

Dazed, he glanced up and locked eyes with an equally shocked looking Birdman. He scrambled backward out of instinct and held his breath, half expecting the man to break into Latin and curse Dean’s dick off. He had the irrational instinct to protect his junk but thought better of it. He’d rather not draw attention to his sensitive bits when facing a witch.

Birdman seemed to recover first and started to his feet. “Are you ok?”

Dean blinked up at him. “I’m fine. We’re cool, ok?”

Birdman took a step towards him, uncaring that he was still standing in the rain. “Can I help you-”

Dean recoiled from his hand. “I’m fine.”

His hand drew back slowly, and a crease appeared between his brows. Birdman turned to pick up the umbrella that had been dropped in the collision. “Are you sure? It was a pretty hard fall.”

Dean pushed himself to his feet, unsuccessfully hiding the twinge of pain from his ankle. “I’m fine.”

Birdman didn’t look convinced. “Should I call someone?”

Dean took a step back and held his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, man. We’re cool, right?”

Birdman offered a tentative smile. “Of course. It was an accident. Are you sure you-”

Dean nodded. “I’m fine. Don’t sic your raven on me or something.”

“What?”

“The bird.”

“My raven?”

Dean scanned the sky, afraid the familiar would fly in out of nowhere and attack him. “Don’t call it. It was an accident!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t curse me, ok?”

“Curse you?” the man looked utterly confused. “Should I call someone to come and get you?”

Dean couldn’t stop himself. “We’re fine, right? It was just an accident. I’m sorry, no need to cast a spell on me or something… I don’t know what witches do…”

Birdman blinked rain out of his eye. “Spells? Witches? Please let me call someone for you.”

“I know your secret, ok?”

“My secret? I assure you-”

He glanced through the rain, but they were the only ones around. “I know you’re a witch.”

Birdman approached him. “Let’s get inside, ok?”

The man didn’t seem like he was about to curse Dean, and he really did want to get out of the rain, so he followed him inside. He watched as Birdman ran his hands through his hair, and made it into an even bigger mess. “I’m not going to tell anyone, ok?”

“Please start over,” he begged. “I’m very confused.”

“That you’re a witch,” he explained. “I saw you, ok? Your spellbook? The familiar? The weird chanting?”

“Spellbook?”

“The leather one!”

Understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes. Shrugging off his backpack, he opened it and pulled the book in question out. “This?”

Dean took a giant step back. “Put that thing away, dude.”

“Castiel,” he said.

Dean waited for some kind of tingle, anything to show that he’s just been cursed.

At Dean’s expression, he clarified. “My name. It’s Castiel.”

He relaxed a fraction. “Oh, yeah. Ok. Um, I’m Dean.”

“Dean,” he repeated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I won’t tell anyone, ok?”

“Did you hit your head?” Castiel asked, concern clear in his voice.

“No, I'm fine. I’m just going to leave, ok?”

“You’re acting quite strange.” Cas painted out. “Have we met? Have I done something to you?”

“I've never met a witch before, I don’t know-”

“I’m not a witch,” he interrupted.

“But what about the chanting? And the raven?”

“I’m a theology major,” he began. “This book belongs to one of my professors. It’s an old copy of The Bible translated to Greek.” At Dean’s blank look, he hesitantly continued. “The New Testament was originally written in Koine Greek, so I’m losing less information by reading it in its original Greek…”

“Greek,” Dean repeated. “So that wasn’t Latin?”

He shook his head. “No, although I suppose the language is similar enough.”

“And the bird?”

“The raven is my friend,” he clarified. “It’s name is Lenore.”

“And he’s a familiar… I googled it.”

“I don’t understand. What exactly is a familiar?”

Dean gaped at him for a moment. “You know… an animal that helps you do magic?”

The man just stared at him in confused silence.

“So… you’re not a witch.”

Cas just shook his head. “Of course not.”

Dean flushed in embarrassment. “I’m just going to walk into traffic, excuse me.”

Dean turned to leave but was stopped by a strong hand gripping his forearm. “Wait, please stay. I feel bad about all of this.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “_You_ feel bad? I’m the asshole here, trust me.”

“I knocked you over and-”

“I’m pretty sure I’m to one who ran into you…” he interrupted. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Still,” he insisted. “Let me make it up to you. I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee.”

Dean’s brain froze. Birdman, whose name was Castiel, and who _wasn’t_ a witch, was asking him out for coffee. He hadn’t gone out and said the word ‘date’ but that was exactly what it sounded like. In his mind, he tried to backtrack to the time before he went insane and decided that Cas was a witch.

Cas shuffled, uncomfortable with the length of time Dean was taking to respond. “It's fine, I suppose you’d like to leave.”

It took Cas taking a step towards the door for his brain to finally come online. “Wait! Yeah, I- Um… yes. We could get some coffee.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, still a little unsure. “You were in a hurry, I don’t want to keep you from your obligations.”

Dean huffed in amusement. “Don’t worry, I was just trying to get out of the rain.”

“Oh. Well, the campus coffee shop is guaranteed to be crowded, but the one off of Chapman shouldn’t be too bad.”

Dean watched the rain pound against the glass door. “Yeah. Wanna meet there?”

“Yes, that should be fine. The bus is set to arrive in the next ten minutes.”

“You’re taking the bus?” he frowned. “Listen, if you use that umbrella to get us to my car then I can drive us there.”

Cas seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “I suppose that’s ok. Let me text my friend and let him know I’m getting into a car with a stranger named Dean.”

He snorted. “Do that.”

Cas typed into his phone for a few moments before putting it away. “He has been notified, he merely asks to be told ahead of time if you’re planning on murdering me.”

“No problem,” Dean promised with a smile. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

Cas smiled at him and opened the umbrella. “Where are you parked?”

“Back of lot C.”

Cas made a pitying sound. “You’d be drenched by the time you made it.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’s why I was running.”

Cas pushed the door open and gestured for Dean to join him under the umbrella. They set out, the umbrella parting the rain and trapping them in a curtain of water. The pitter-patter of the cold droplets drowned out the world around them, only their heavy footsteps interrupting the dull roar of the rain. The minute they were pressed together, shoulder to hip in an attempt to both stay dry, Dean realized that there was no way he was going to be able to get out of the encounter with his dignity intact. His cheeks were burning at the contact, and with the uncomfortable silence stretching between them as they made their way into the parking lot, this walk was shaping up to be the longest of his life.

He opened and closed his mouth, grasping for a topic but come up blank. An age later, when they were halfway to Dean’s car, Cas spoke up.

“So,” he began. “Why did you assume I’m a witch, again? I’m still a little confused.”

Dean blushed and let out a long groan. “Can we forget all about that? I don’t even believe in that stuff.”

“Clearly you did.”

“Temporary insanity.”

Cas laughed. “Well, I suppose the raven is quite strange.”

“Ya think?”

With a smile, Cas launched into the story of how he met his unusual friend.

Lenore shook the droplets from her wings, flinging a shower of water around her. Her eyes focused on the pair as they entered the parking lot, and watched their feet peek out from under the black umbrella as they advanced towards the black car in the back of the lot.

She cawed loudly into the storm and jumped from her perch. Her wings snapped open and carried her across the parking lot, past the two men. Over the sound of the rain, she heard the two men sharing a laugh.


End file.
